Chapter 25: Cain
"I thought I told you not to kill."
Dax's grandfather appeared from a crack in space—silent, sudden, his tone strict and heavy. The air itself stilled under the weight of his authority, as though the world paused to listen.
"I did as you said," Dax replied calmly, turning his gaze toward the distant mountain peaks. The wyverns' massive silhouettes were barely visible against the bruised sky—dark shapes circling like living storms.
The Ancestor stretched his senses to the extreme—perception washing over the battlefield like a slow tide.
That was when he felt it—a faint, almost imperceptible pulse.
He scanned Zain carefully—moving past torn armor, shattered ground, scorched stone—searching for the truth beneath the violence.
No visible wounds.
No broken bones.
No ruptured organs.
Only a massive fist imprint pressed deeply into Zain's chest—like the mark of a god's judgment.
"…Impressive."
His eyes narrowed slightly as realization dawned.
